


Salagadoola, mechicka boola!

by solrosan



Series: Queensman [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Prince Eggsy Unwin, Prince Gary, Tailor Harry Hart, Tailoring, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: Harry makes Eggsy's clothes for the wedding.





	Salagadoola, mechicka boola!

**Author's Note:**

> The strangest Fix-it fic I've ever written, because I really think it was a missed opportunity to put Eggsy in a uniform at his wedding.
> 
> * * *

> #### Keep a-busy Cinderelly!
> 
> _**Rarely, on occasions like these, is the focus on the groom and what the groom wears, but coming from a working class family in South London, Princess Tilde’s fiancé, Gary Unwin, already breaks with most traditions.** _
> 
> __
> 
> __
> 
> _The Swedish Royal court announced today that the groom will be wearing white tie at the wedding, made by his own teacher and mentor, Mr Harry Hart. A spokesperson for the Royal court says that Mr Unwin has been very personally involved in the process of making the dress suit._
> 
> _“Mr Unwin is very pleased having his mentor make the suit for him,” says the spokesperson, who also says that Mr Unwin is “deeply humbled” that Mr Hart accepted._
> 
> _Mr Hart has worked as a tailor for more than thirty years, almost exclusively with men’s wear, but hasn’t made a name for himself in the industry. Mr Unwin and Mr Hart worked together at Kingsman Tailor Shop on Savile Row, London, before the shop was destroyed by a gas explosion in September 2017. It was also Mr Hart who offered Mr Unwin the apprenticeship he held when meeting Crown Princess Tilde.  
>  _

  


* * *

“Aww, Harry.” Eggsy ran a finger under the lapel of the black tailcoat. “Bulletproof and everything.”

“I know it’s not the fabric we discussed,” said Harry, standing next to the mannequin wearing Eggsy’s dress suit. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“You think I need to be bulletproof on my wedding day?” Eggsy asked.

“Doesn’t one always?”

Eggsy looked at Harry, grinning. He didn’t mind at all. He had been very clear with Tilde and her parents that he’d go along with just about everything when it came to the wedding as long as they let him pick his own tailor. The Swedish king and queen, knowing him only as a tailor himself, had no objections to this as long as he kept to a more traditional colour scheme than during their first dinner. So Eggsy had picked Harry — who had only questioned him once if it was a good idea to hire a one-eyed man who hadn’t made a suit in years for this job.

“Perhaps a bit controversial,” said Harry. “But when I managed to get in touch with our old supplier, I thought I should at least suggest it. This, after all, in line with what most Kingsman agents wear when they leave service. It’s only fitting that you’d wear the same on your way out even if your exit is a bit untraditional.”

Eggsy nodded, his smile fading. “Thanks, Harry. It means… It— Thank you.”

“Yes, well.” Harry cleared his throat. “Should we try it on?”

“Nah, a bespoke suit always fits, right?” Eggsy winked, going for a smile again.

“It was Merlin who told you that, wasn’t it? He had no idea what he was talking about. I won’t put my name on something and then allow you to wear it in front of millions of people during a TV broadcast if I’m not happy with it. Now, try it on.”

Eggsy’s smile grew. “Yes, Harry.”

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. He continued to pull his t-shirt over his head. In the meantime, Harry took the coat of the mannequin.

“Eggsy,” Harry said, sighing. “You didn’t bring a dress shirt, did you? Or any shirt, for that matter?”

“No?”

Harry rolled his eye. “I see that they didn’t stay on top of your training while I was gone.”

“Not fair! I always had a shirt already when I went to fittings.”

“Excuses.”

“And I’m pretty sure they’re paying you to make a shirt as well, so if you haven’t started yet, that’s on you.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Harry smiled fondly. “Start with the trousers and I’ll go get you one of mine.”

Harry left and Eggsy alone in the small study at Drottningholm palace that now doubled as a sewing room. Once it had probably been the office of the head servant. Or so Harry had said.

It felt so surreal. All of it. Eggsy wondered how he had ended up here. He had called a number on the back of a medal once, when he was at his lowest. Now he was standing half-naked in a castle, and the man who had helped him that day all those years ago was making the clothes he was going to marry an honest-to-god princess in. It wasn’t just surreal. It was insane.

“Oxfords, not brogues,” he muttered as a mantra under his breath. 

“Indeed,” said Harry, who just came back, handing Eggsy a pair of shoes along with the dress shirt. “Since I noticed that you’ve taken on this country’s custom of walking around in your socks.”

“Tilde would kill me otherwise, She says it’s to do with snow or something.”

“Hopefully she’ll let you wear shoes in church, at least... Now, Eggsy. The trousers.”

“Right. Yeah.” Eggsy threw on the shirt and stepped out of his jeans with none of his usual grace. He put on the trousers — and the shoes — carefully. They hung loosely on his hips as he buttoned the shirt. Harry stood behind him, pulling up the trousers and pinning them in almost as soon as Eggsy was done tucking in the shirt.

“How much wedding cake are you planning on eating?” he asked. “Do I need to give you some extra room?”

“Last time I saw the guest list it was pushing nine-hundred,” said Eggsy, taking a deep breathe through his nose. “I don’t need cake. I need my trousers to fit.”

Harry smiled mischievously. “Of course.”

“You’re enjoying this spectacle, aren’t you?” 

“A little,” said Harry. He moved Eggsy’s arm out of the way to get more room. Eggsy put his hands together behind his head, trying to think about just about anything other than the fact that he was actually going to get married. To a princess. In a bulletproof dress suit. That Harry made for him.

It was completely impossible, so instead he tried to read the titles of the books on the bookshelves. It was almost as impossible, but at least it was distracting. 

“That will probably do,” Harry muttered to himself as he got up from having pinned up the trouser legs. “If you’re planning to use higher shoes, please inform me as soon as possible, would you?” 

Eggsy nodded as Harry held up the waistcoat for him to put on. 

“I’m going to look like a fucking penguin when this is all done, won’t I?” he asked while fumbling with the buttons on the waistcoat. 

“Only if I don’t do my job properly,” said Harry, going to get the tailcoat. He held it up, waiting for Eggsy to be done. With a deep breath, Eggsy straightened up and let Harry help him get the coat on. He exhaled with a huff when he felt the weight of it on his shoulders. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his knees almost giving in under the new — imaginary, surely — weight. 

“I look like a penguin,” he said weakly. 

“Nonsense,” said Harry, pulling at Eggsy’s shirtsleeves to correct them. “You’re too tall to be a penguin. A little help here, Eggsy. Arms down. Shoulders back. Raise your chin.”

When he said the last thing he lifted Eggsy’s chin with two fingers. Then he walked around Eggsy, twice, to pull, straighten, and mark up things until he was satisfied with it. 

“This looks incredibly well for an early fitting if I’m to say so myself,” said Harry when he stopped behind Eggsy, looking him over one last time in the mirror. “How does it feel?”

Eggsy shook his head. He pulled a little on the shirtsleeves, then on the coat sleeves.

“Too tight?”

Eggsy shook his head again. “Nah, I just…”

“Shoulders back, chin up.”

Eggsy obeyed, meeting Harry’s eye through the mirror. “This is insane, you know that right?”

“Yes,” said Harry, smiling, “but it’s the good kind.”

Eggsy grinned. “Yeah, the good kind.”

“Walk around a bit in it,” said Harry, patting Eggsy twice on the shoulder. “I doubt you’ll have to do anything more acrobatic than perhaps the Gangnam style in this, but—“

“Waltz,” Eggsy interrupted. “I have to waltz.”

“The suit will hold for that.”

“You’re not funny,” Eggsy muttered, but he started to walk around the room, moving his arms up and down to test the coat as well as the trousers. “That was never part of Kingsman training.”

“The waltz bit or the funny bit?”

“Neither.” Eggsy stopped in the middle of the room, with a sigh. “Seriously, though.”

“You’re a former gymnast and a Kingsman agent. _Seriously_ , the waltz won’t be an issue. I can teach you if need be, but if I were you I’d be more worried about the waving.”

Harry raised his hand in a semi-good impression of Queen Elizabeth’s wave. Eggsy burst out laughing.

“Now,” said Harry, walking over to help Eggsy out of the jacket. “Is that enough fun for one day or should we discuss buttons and braces?”

“Whatever you think is best, Harry,” said Eggsy, catching his breath. “Whatever you think is best.”

This was, again, truly insane, but as Harry had said, it was the good kind.


End file.
